


Changes

by rachlovesligers



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachlovesligers/pseuds/rachlovesligers
Summary: Pregnancy changes Peggy's body in ways she doesn't expect.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 81





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beautifulwhensarcastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulwhensarcastic/gifts).



> This is my gift to Justine for completing the PEGGY workout challenge!

Peggy flips the calendar hanging in the kitchen—it’s usually Steve’s job, but since he’s been picking up so many extra shifts he’s dropped the ball on some of the less important household tasks.

She smiles at the cross over today’s date. She’s five months along, according to her husband’s scribbles. It’s an awkward stage, her belly isn’t quite round enough to make it clear she’s carrying a child instead of a second serving of pudding, but it’s just big enough that her clothes don’t quite fit anymore.

She’s been assured the time will fly by, but she’s not so sure. The scratch of Steve’s keys in the lock makes her smile, and she already knows how he’ll greet her.

Predictably, once his coat and shoes are off, he presses his body against her back, his hands hug her hips.

“Any—“

“No,” she cuts him off, breaking from the script. “Still no movement.”

He exhales, his breath tickling her ear. “It should be soon, according to all the books.” His excitement is palpable as his hand slides around to her belly.

His lips nip at the base of her neck, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

_“Steve.”_

At the sound of his name, he turns her in his arms, but when her chest presses against his, it’s agony. She pulls back, breath hissing through her teeth.

When Peggy blinks her eyes open Steve is frozen, panic written on his face.

“I’m alright,” she says at the same time Steve asks “Did I hurt you?”

She takes a breath, still sore from the contact. “I’m just a little tender, nothing to get upset over.”

Steve reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. He doesn’t look panicked anymore, but he still has a deep frown line between his eyebrows.

* * *

To Peggy’s dismay, her chest is still unbearably tender the next morning. She can hardly stand to let the shower spray hit her chest, and putting her bra on is near torture. The ordeal leaves her in a foul mood.

At the office she snaps at Jack more than usual, her tolerance for his insults is in the gutter. Fortunately the rest of the office are considerably smarter than Thompson, and give her a wide berth. It allows her some room to get some work done.

Peggy makes it through the morning, her work absorbing her completely. When the office starts to perk up and lunch orders are tossed across the room, she finally closes the manila folder and puts down her pen.

Jack meets her gaze with an insufferable smile, and starts to approach her.

“You joining us for lunch, Marge?”

She ignores him, reaching under her desk for her handbag, she fiddles with it, hoping he’ll get bored and wonder off.

“Or are you laying off the sandwiches? I know you can eat like a fella, but you certainly don’t carry your weight like one.”

Peggy grits her teeth, rising up to face him, but she underestimates the size of her chest and scrapes it against the desk on the way up. She winces, and Jack’s smile falters.

“It was just a joke, Marge, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

She stands, fists clenched, and takes a deep breath.

“Walk away, Jack,” she tells him, her voice low and even.

He holds his hands up in surrender, just as Chief Dooley enters the bullpen.

_“Thompson!”_ he shouts, “leave her be.”

Jack turns, incredulous. He opens his mouth to defend himself just as she does the same.

“I don’t need defen-“ Peggy starts.

“It was a joke, boss,” Jack pleas. “We all know she’s put on a few pounds, everyone else is just too scared to say it to her face.”

He turns back to Peggy. “If you want to be treated like one of the fellas, you’ve got to learn to take a joke like one.”

She inches forward, nails digging into her palms. “And at what point did you start treating me _like one of the fellas?_ I must have been too busy making your coffee to notice when you made the switch.”

“Enough!” the Chief barks. “I don’t want you provoking her, she’s in a delicate condition.”

Peggy’s teeth clench as Thompson whips his head between the two of them. She can see the cogs in his head turning as he takes in the phrase _delicate condition_ while eyeing her weight gain, drawing the inevitable conclusion at a snail's pace.

Finally, his jaw drops open. “You’re knocked up?”

It’s the final straw, and Peggy already has her right foot forward. She knocks Jack out cold, and is sent home for her trouble.

* * *

Peggy has no interest in sitting at home. She’ll have plenty of time for that when the baby is born. Instead she heads to Howard’s mansion after tracking him down via Jarvis.

She’s informed, when she arrives, that the gentleman of the house is by the pool. It’s not really the weather for it, but Peggy expects there are women involved.

Unsurprisingly, Howard has managed to power a heater strong enough to have a herd of women in their swimwear, during a New York autumn. Howard himself is on the other side of the pool, draped in a ridiculously luxurious robe, a drink in each hand.

Peggy stops by the bar for a virgin Bloody Mary, and downs it on her way towards Howard. She can feel her mood lifting at the taste of her drink, perfectly mixed by the bartender, and the artificial warmth mimicking the summer sun. A girl splashes in the pool and Peggy almost believes that Howard has successfully invented time travel, it feels just like a summer afternoon.

But the spell is broken when Howard spots her. He looks over his sunglasses and breathes “wow,” his mouth seemingly stuck in an O as he gazes at her chest.

She truly is not in the mood to be objectified, and with Howard only inches from the edge of the pool it barely takes any effort to push him in.

* * *

When she gets home, Steve is still out at work. He’s taking back to back shifts at the newspaper so that he can afford to take time off when the baby arrives. When they discussed it, it had made perfect sense. But right now, she misses him desperately.

She finds her dinner in the ice box, labelled with today’s date, her name, and a sketch of Steve dressed as a waiter. It’s so sweet she almost starts to cry.

* * *

The following weekend finally brings a morning where Peggy and Steve are both at home. They revel in their time together, lounging in bed longer than necessary. When Peggy comes out of the shower, Steve is waiting in the bedroom. She’s gotten so used to her husband efficiently filling every moment with something productive, that it feels like such a luxury to have him simply sit on the end of the bed and watch her get ready.

Peggy carries on as normal, but after she’s applied her moisturiser, she catches sight of herself in the full length mirror. Her nipples are several shades darker than normal, and at least twice their usual size. It’s surreal. She had expected a bump, but had never given much thought to how the rest of her body would react to pregnancy.

Her breasts still overshadow her bump, and since they’re still too tender to touch, she runs her hand over her belly. It’s still soft. She pushes a little, experimenting. She had expected a taught shell to protect the baby, but she’s so soft and pliable.

Moving lower, she tries to feel for something, her uterus? A limb? A head?

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, suddenly at her side. “You’ll poke them.”

Peggy rolls her eyes.

“I think I felt something while you were asleep, but I’m not sure.”

“ _Really?_ ” Steve’s eyes light up like a child on Christmas morning. He reaches out and cups her belly, ever so gently.

She smiles at him indulgently.

“You should have woken me up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She covers his hand with hers, “it will happen again.”

Steve leans down and presses a kiss to her collarbone, then pulls away completely.

“Can I draw you like this?”

Peggy blinks, taken aback. She realises he’s serious.

“Alright then,” she says lightly, “I can’t bear to put on a bra just now, so I suppose you might as well.”

She strides over to the bed and makes herself comfortable, then picks up the book she’s currently reading. It’s only a brief moment before she hears the familiar sounds of a sketchbook flipping open—she knows exactly which one—the clicking of pencils in a pot, and finally, the scratch of pencil on paper.

* * *

Upon hearing the news, Rose and the girls in the front office pull together enough hand-me-down maternity clothes to help Peggy get by. Although she has to concede defeat and buy a new set of bras after, to her horror, she starts leaking.

Peggy can’t fathom why milk is secreting months before it’s needed, but she doesn’t care to find out. The girls give her the advice she needs, and point her in the direction of absorbent pads. It’s mortifying, and her chest feels fit to burst.

She’s feeling slightly less tender, but she still can’t bear to be touched. Her and Steve haven’t done anything in the bedroom—other than sleep—for weeks, it’s incredibly out of character. She’s noticed Steve’s lustful glances when he thinks she’s not looking, the way his eyes roam down her body, but then seem to get stuck on her bulging belly. She wonders if it’s off-putting for him.

Despite their lack of sex, Steve is still as hands on as ever. He seems to have a sixth sense for when she needs his touch. She’s reclined on the settee, dressed down for the evening, when Steve lifts her swollen feet into his lap and wordlessly starts massaging her. It’s bliss.

After a few moments she drops her book to the floor and lets her head tilt back, she can’t help the soft moan that escapes her lips. A day in heels is agony enough without the added weight. She stretches, her back arching, and feels her robe fall open. Steve freezes.

“Darling?” She asks, just as she notices the blush blooming across Steve’s cheeks, and the way his eyes flit down to her exposed breast.

She recognises that hunger, but just now, she can’t think of anything she’d like less.

It must show on her face because Steve quickly recovers and moves to stand, gently replacing her feet to their original position on the settee.

“Steve, I…”

He turns, hands on his hips and cheeks flushed, pretending there isn’t a bulge in the front of his trousers.

“It’s not that I don’t—“

“Peggy,” he holds his hand up. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

He turns, and heads towards the bathroom. “I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

That makes Peggy crack a smile. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

* * *

Another week passes and the tenderness in Peggy’s chest is finally lessening. She’s home alone and decides to take advantage of the situation, taking a long, luxurious shower, now that she’s not so painfully sensitive to the stream of water.

As she walks into the bedroom she catches sight of herself in the mirror, it’s still a shock to see the unfamiliar proportions of her body. She pauses, then reaches one hand up to gently cup her breast. It’s heavier than she’s used to, and more sensitive, but not in a bad way. She hasn’t even touched her nipple yet and it’s already erect.

She glances at the clock, Steve should be home soon. She can wait.

But then she moves her hand, thumb swiping over her hard nipple, and feels a spark from deep within her. She can’t wait.

Peggy settles on the bed, propped against a pillow, still in the nude. She’s wound up already, as though all the weeks of disinterest have piled up somewhere inside her and can now, _finally_ , be released.

She touches her chest, it feels like unfamiliar territory, and follows the curve that used to be so familiar. Her nipples, like everything else, have grown, and with that it seems their sensitivity has grown. She gives herself time to explore, ignoring the desperate need she feels to finish herself off.

She feels stretch marks on her breasts—those are new—then trails her hand down to her belly. Still no stretch marks there, but there’s plenty more months to go. To her surprise, her belly is still soft, and unusually sensitive. She pushes it a little, but as she strokes her fingers lower, she can’t bear to keep teasing herself.

Her eyes flutter closed as she pulls her knees up, reaches down into the familiar warmth, and moves her fingers in a deliberate and well-rehearsed pattern.

It’s only after she gasps, feeling the orgasm spread through her belly, that she senses the presence of someone else in the room.

Steve swallows audibly. He’s standing on the threshold of their bedroom.

“Do you need a minute?” He asks, voice low and gravelly.

Peggy shakes her head. “Come here,” she orders him, and he crosses the room in an instant, as obedient as ever.

She pulls his hand to her breast, pushes a little, and looks up to meet his wide eyes.

“Is this ok?” He asks.

She nods, and pulls his lips down to meet hers. He tastes so good, and he’s as eager as she is. Of course, he must be feeling pent up in a similar way.

His warm hand is still on her, but hasn’t moved from the spot where she placed it.

“You can touch me, Steve, I’m alright,” she says against his lips.

He pulls away, looks at her with a burning intensity, and then seems to decide that she’s being honest. His hand starts to move, still too gentle for her liking, but she pushes into his touch just as his thumb starts to circle her nipple.

He follows up with his lips, and his tongue, working her up again with practiced ease. She tugs at his shirt, and he’s stripped down to his underwear in an instant. The thin fabric makes it clear just how wired he is.

Peggy is desperate for him, but when he sits down on the bed he places a warm hand on her belly, and a pang of insecurity mingles with the excitement.

“I hope it’s not a terrible distraction,” she says, and glances pointedly down at Steve’s hand.

“Distraction?”

“If it is you’ll just have to close your eyes and remember me in my prime,” she goes for a teasing tone, but the statement comes out with a bit too much sincerity.

Steve stares at her, his brows pulled together. “Do you think I don’t want you like this?”

She doesn’t answer, but that’s an answer in and ofitself.

“ _Peggy_ ,” his voice is low. “You have _no idea_ how much I want you right now.”

It’s her turn to feel confused.

Steve leans in, hand still on her belly, and whispers in her ear. “I’ve been touching myself to the thought of you, looking exactly as you do now.”

She clings to his arm, and his words are almost enough to get her off. She barely stifles a groan, and in response Steve’s hand moves lower, and finishes the job his words had started.


End file.
